


Catch a Wave

by sunsetmog



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Surfing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer's thinking about giving up surfing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch a Wave

**Author's Note:**

> Written for no-tags. Originally posted [here](http://no-tags.livejournal.com/13930.html) on 13th January 2010.

Spencer's thinking about giving up surfing.

When Pete finds out, he raises his eyebrows so high they almost touch his hairline, which is kind of weird now that Pete's hair is so short.

"What the fuck, dude?" he says, grabbing an extra beer from the ice box by the side of the pool and sliding one across to where Spencer's sitting, dangling his feet in the water.

"No big deal," Spencer says, shaking his head. He has a hangover, a dull throb of a headache pressing somewhere at the base of his skull. He hadn't been able to find his sunglasses before they'd come outside earlier, so he'd stolen a pair of Ashlee's. They're huge and ridiculous, and judging by the designer's logo, probably cost about as much as Spencer's car. He thinks he carries them off well, especially the rhinestones. He waggles them lazily, and Pete rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, they look good," he says, but he doesn't give up. "You guys talk about surfing, like, all the fucking time, Spence."

"No we don't," Spencer lies.

Pete rolls his eyes again, and kicks Spencer in the ankle. "Dude," he says. "What does Brendon say?"

Spencer sits back on his elbows and looks up at the sky. "He's fine with it," he says. That's a lie, too. He hasn't even _told_ Brendon yet. "He doesn't mind." Three lies.

"Hmmm," Pete says. "You going to tell me why you're quitting, all of a sudden?"

"It's not all of a sudden," Spencer says, deliberately lazily. "It's no big deal. Bored with it, that's all."

Pete nods, assessing him. "Sure," he says, and Spencer's glad of the huge sunglasses to hide behind.

Spencer's not bored with surfing. He fucking loves it. He loves how it feels, being out in the water under the LA sun. He has his own board and it's bright and stupid and he and Brendon spend far too long looking up surf stores on the internet and ordering yet more surf wax and checking out the forums promising the inside story on the best waves.

He's not bored with how it feels, riding the waves, the adrenalin rush as he clambers to his feet and _stays there_ , of how he can come out of the water and shake his hair out of his eyes, and taste the salt on his lips.

What he doesn't like is how he feels when he sees Brendon.

Brendon's in his element, surfing. He's so fucking happy out there that Spencer can't help but smile just at the thought of Brendon plunging into the water, board in hand, grinning at Spencer and waving him over. He ducks straight under the waves, not even waiting for Spencer to follow him in, and when he comes up for air he shakes his head like a dog, water going everywhere. Every time's the same. Brendon comes up for air, and Spencer's stomach jumps.

It's not that Spencer's attraction to Brendon is only there at the beach, or anything, because that would be another lie, and Spencer is kind of sick of the number of lies he's been telling recently. Spencer is attracted to Brendon all the fucking time, so it's more that when they're at the beach it's so fucking obvious that Spencer's pretty sure that astronauts could pick it up from _space_.

Spencer has come off his board more times than he can even _count_ because he's been too busy watching Brendon. It's like there's an extra layer of awareness for Spencer where Brendon's concerned, and one of these days he's going to lose concentration and hurt himself. He's making this decision for his own safety, he tells himself. (That's another lie).

It's weird, how aware Spencer is of Brendon. At home it's easier to hide it, like, it's easier to bury his face in Bogart's fur or pretend to trip over one of the dog toys or the stupid piles of crap Brendon leaves everywhere. When they're surfing Spencer feels like he can't hide what he feels, like he's laying it right out there for Brendon to see, and there's no where to hide. There isn't a grocery list to go add to, or a bottle of beer to go find. It's just them, the two of them and the ocean and the waves and each other, and Spencer's stomach just flips over and over and over, and he feels like he's got the goofiest smile in the world plastered across his face the whole time he's out in the water.

"You're a fucking idiot," Pete says, lazily. He kicks his feet in the water, and keeps an eye on the baby monitor he's got resting on the chair by the side of the pool. It's quiet.

"Am not," Spencer says. (Lie).

"You two are both idiots," Pete goes on, "but right now you're the bigger one. Seriously, you're giving up surfing?"

Spencer shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah," he says, and tries not to think about Brendon standing on the sand, his wetsuit peeled down to his waist, the way the water droplets run down his chest and how Spencer wants to press his mouth to Brendon's skin and taste the salt beneath his tongue.

"Because...?" Pete prompts.

"It's boring," Spencer lies.

"Because you're a pussy," Pete supplies, ignoring Spencer's blatant lie. "Fuck, how much more obvious could either of you be, I swear you're both dumb as a box of frogs."

"As dumb as a _what_?" Spencer splutters, unable to help himself.

"Nothing," Pete says, shaking his head. "You're both too stupid to live, I swear." A broken murmur comes from the baby monitor, and Pete stands up, rolling his shoulders. "I'm gonna go in and talk to the little guy," he goes on, "and we're both going to talk about how fucking stupid the two of you are."

"Whatever," Spencer says, grumpily. "I don't know what you're talking about, anyway."

Except he kind of does, and if the way Ashlee and Pete keep shooting each other little sidelong grins later on when they're having dinner, he's pretty sure that Ashlee does too.

"So," Ashlee says. "Brendon's coming back from Vegas tomorrow?"

"Uh-huh," Spencer agrees, carefully ignoring both of them and concentrating on slicing an apple into pieces for Bronx to hold in his hand and chew. He ignores the feeling in his stomach, too, the leap he can't quite temper, the warm feeling that spreads from deep down inside of him right to the tips of his fingers.

Across the table, Ashlee and Pete make knowing eyes at each other and Spencer ducks his head.

"So, you'll be going back home again, then?" Ash asks, after a minute where Spencer's pretty sure that Ashlee and Pete have grinned at each other constantly. Spencer thinks that they were probably both evil in a past life, or whatever. Anyway, their baby loves him, and keeps holding his hand out for more apple, so he doesn't much care.

"If you don't want me here," Spencer starts, sweetly, and steals a piece of apple from the stack he has on his plate, waiting for Bronx to finish up with the ones he has.

"You are always welcome here," Ashlee says, smiling back at him disarmingly.

"Yeah," Pete agrees, "whenever Brendon's away from home and you're lonely without him, you can come stay here and we won't make fun of you."

"No," Ashlee agrees, "we won't make fun of you at all. Crushes are totally natural, Spence -"

"Shut up," Spencer says, trying to hide his embarrassment. He's had feelings for Brendon for a very long time now, but this is the first time anyone has actually acknowledged it. It's a strange feeling, hearing it spoken out loud. He glances across at Bronx, who is concentrating entirely on his apple. "Shoot, you're such dicks."

Ashlee smiles again, and leans across the table to cover Spencer's hand with hers. "And," she says, in a conspiratorial whisper, "you can keep the sunglasses if you like them so much."

"Ha ha," Spencer says, weakly, except for how he really _does_ like the sunglasses. He also, apparently, really likes Brendon because he's flushing pink. He fumbles with the sunglasses and tugs them on to hide his blush.

"You're cute," Pete says, wrinkling his nose and laughing. He tugs his phone out of his pocket and holds it up. "Camera time," he says, snapping a picture of Spencer. He taps in a message and then beams. "Sent it to Brendon."

Spencer rolls his eyes. " _Pete_." He slices the chunks of apple even smaller, the knife making a sharp sound against the plate with every cut.

"He's replied already," Pete tells him, grinning, as his phone buzzes. "Says it's a good look for you."

"Shut up," Spencer says, inexplicably unable to help blushing.

"Aww," Pete says, leaning over and clapping Spencer on the shoulder. "The two of you are so cute, don't you think, Ash?"

"Bronx thinks you're idiots," Spencer says, quickly.

"Bronx thinks _you're_ idiots," Pete shoots back. "Like the rest of us do, too."

Spencer rolls his eyes and concentrates on his plate. He can feel his phone in his pocket, a solid weight there against his thigh. Brendon's in Vegas at a family thing, and Pete and Ashlee are _right_ , he's been hanging out with them this whole time because he's stupid and the house feels weird without Brendon there. He hasn't called Brendon this whole time, because they _live_ together, they can totally cope without talking to each other for a few days. It's not like they're not texting, or anything. He thinks about surfing, and his feet itch, just a little, for the sand beneath his toes and the sound of the waves crashing along the shore.

"Seriously," Ashlee says, softly. "Why don't you just tell him, Spence?"

"Tell him _what_?" Spencer asks, fiercely, as if ignoring the giant elephant in the room that looks a lot like a giant graffiti heart with Spencer and Brendon's initials in the middle is a viable option. He slices a piece of apple into five tiny pieces, and then pushes his plate closer to Bronx's high chair. Bronx leans over and carefully examines each of the pieces in turn, bumping them into each other as he tries to pick them up.

Ashlee rolls her eyes and then leans over to unstrap Bronx from his seat, pulling him on to her knee. He snuggles closer and babbles at her happily, still sucking on a piece of apple. Ashlee doesn't seem to care that he's mashing fruit into her shirt. It's part of the reason Spencer loves hanging out with them all, the way they're so at ease with each other. "He might say yes, Spence," she says, after a while.

"He might say no," Spencer says, softly.

Pete leans over and pokes him the arm. "Don't give up surfing, dude," he says, and Spencer ducks his head.

"It was a just an idea," Spencer says, and he holds his hand out so that Bronx can curl his fingers around Spencer's thumb. It's not like giving up surfing would have stopped Spencer thinking the things he does about Brendon, it would have just meant that Spencer spent less time staring at Brendon in his wet suit. "Just a stupid idea."

"Yeah," Pete says. He shoots a glance at Bronx. "A fucking shitty one."

Spencer rolls his eyes, and shakes Bronx's hand. "Your daddy's an idiot," he says, nodding down at him. Bronx watches him seriously for a moment, and then breaks out into a wide grin, letting go of Spencer's hand and clapping.

"Says Uncle Spence," Pete grins, and lifts Bronx onto his lap. Bronx rubs his nose against Pete's shirt, and Pete laughs, tugging him closer.

Spencer's phone buzzes in his pocket.

 _sunglasses r awesome dude. pick me up 2moro n bring the boards well hit the beach n surf surf surf x_

Spencer can't help the smile that curves across his face. He's still smiling as he texts back a _yes_.

When he looks up, Ashlee and Pete are watching him with identical, goofy grins.

"You've got it so bad," Ashlee tells him, and Spencer can't hide it anymore. He laughs, and ducks his head.

"Yeah," he says. His stomach feels light. It's a little scary, but also a _relief_. "Yeah," he says again. "I do."

~*~

Picking Brendon up from the airport takes longer than it should because of traffic; Spencer gets stuck in a deadlock. Brendon gets bored waiting and sends him text after text after text that Spencer can't read until he's pulling up outside the terminal and Brendon's clambering in, dumping his bag on the back seat and already fiddling with the stereo before Spencer's even tugged his phone out of his pocket.

"I was listening to that," Spencer complains, but he wasn't. He was thinking about Brendon, about his smile and his stupid laugh and how Spencer feels better just for being around him. He scrolls through Brendon's messages, biting his lip to keep from grinning.

"Sure you were," Brendon says, and he leans over and elbows Spencer in the side as Spencer drops his phone back into his lap and pulls out of the parking space. "Dude, did you bring the shit? Are we going surfing?"

Spencer rolls his eyes. The boards are on the top of the car, and their suits are on the back seat, next to Brendon's bag. There are towels and bottles of water and even a soccer ball that Brendon bought intending to take it to the beach with them at some point. Spencer usually made sure it was hidden somewhere pretty special so that Brendon couldn't find it, but whatever. He was in a good mood. If Brendon wanted to kick a ball around on the beach, then Brendon fucking _could_. "Hey," he says, finally, because he's all of a sudden actually lost for words. He's known Brendon for years and he's fucked if he can ever remember being this much of an idiot over him. Obviously admitting how he feels to Pete and Ashlee has just managed to make him more of a dick in love.

Brendon laughs. "Hey yourself," he says, and when Spencer glances across at him, Brendon's just grinning at him, eyes bright. There's something in Brendon's gaze that makes Spencer's stomach flip, something tentative and bright. Spencer's not sure whether it was there before or not; he just knows that he's looking for it now, some kind of suggestion that there's _hope_.

"Dude," Spencer says, "why don't you stay away for longer next time? I was just getting used to having the place to myself."

"Sure," Brendon says, easily. "Pete says you spent the whole time at their place."

"Pete's a dick." Spencer tries not to blush.

"It's okay," Brendon says, conspiratorially, "I missed you too."

Spencer's fingers tingle.

~*~

"I've been in the fucking _desert_ ," Brendon tells him, after he's raced down the beach and thrown himself into the shallows, leaving Spencer to follow him with the surfboards.

Spencer _tries_ to look grumpy, but when Brendon's grinning at him like that, water dripping down off his hair and sliding down his face, salty-wet and just _there_ , he can't even manage that.

"For, like, _five days_ ," Spencer points out.

"Too many days away from this," Brendon says, blissfully, coming over to take his board from Spencer. "Fuck, how did we manage there for so fucking long? No ocean? No surfing?"

"That would fucking suck," Spencer says, and he thinks about what he tried to give up so he wouldn't have to stand here and feel this awkward, the strange, desperate heat in his belly as Brendon pushed him further into the water.

"Come on," Brendon says, "race you out there."

There's a strange, almost unfamiliar tension in the air between them, something new, something different to before. At least, Spencer thinks, maybe. There is something familiar about the way they're looking at each other, something recognizable in the way they're teasing each other, testing the waters, maybe. Spencer wonders how long this has been going on, and how long he's gone without noticing.

They paddle out and Spencer lets Brendon take the first wave.

The second is larger, and Spencer stumbles, going down too early. When he comes up for air, Brendon's waiting for him in the shallows, laughing.

"Dick," Spencer says, when he's close enough for Brendon to hear. He shakes his head and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Amateur," Brendon says, but he's grinning, eyes bright and shining. "One week away and you've forgotten how to surf, or something?"

"Douche," Spencer says, easily. Brendon's sitting astride his board, paddling lazily with one hand. Spencer clambers on to his, and tries not to bump into Brendon; as he gets close, Brendon grabs on to his arm and pulls him even nearer. The sun is hot and unrelenting, but the ocean is loud and Brendon has to speak up so that Spencer can hear him.

"Fucking missed you," Brendon says, his fingers curved around the sleeve of Spencer's wetsuit. The neoprene's wet through and shiny-black beneath his fingertips; Spencer looks down and doesn't look away.

"Yeah," he says, the tip of his board bumping into Brendon's. His knee is pressed right up against Brendon's and this is _weird_ , it's really fucking weird.

"Like, _really_ ," Brendon says, urgently, and when Spencer looks up it's like Brendon's willing him to understand, to hear what he's actually saying. Spencer feels confused, and out of his depth.

"Brendon -"

"Fuck," Brendon says. "Pete said I should just—that you wouldn't -"

"Pete," Spencer says, stupidly. Brendon's still holding on to Spencer's arm.

"He said just to -" Brendon swallows a breath. "Okay, just, don't. I don't know. Don't fucking hate me, or anything." He cups Spencer's face in his hand, and Spencer knows that Brendon's going to kiss him for about three seconds before he actually closes the distance between them and presses his mouth to Spencer's.

Brendon tastes like salt water, and Spencer barely has time to register the sensation before Brendon's pulling back.

"Say something," Brendon says, after a moment. He's pink-cheeked and flushed, worrying at his lip. "I don't know. Anything." He laughs, that awkward, uncomfortable laugh that Spencer's heard too many times from him.

Spencer feels dazed, and confused. He doesn't know what to say. His mouth is dry and he licks his lips; Brendon's still holding on to his arm, knuckles white. He's holding on too tight, and the discomfort registers somewhere with him, a dull ache somewhere beneath the haze of confusion that's clouding Spencer's thoughts. Brendon kissed _him_. He's waiting too long to say something back.

Brendon tries to pull away.

"Brendon -" Spencer manages, hoarsely. He makes a grab for Brendon's arm, but he misses, catching his leg instead. "Fuck," he says, and then he gives up trying to figure out what to say and just slides his hand into the nape of Brendon's neck, keeping him close.

"I thought you -" Brendon starts, his words rushed.

"No," Spencer says, shaking his head. Their boards keep bumping into each other, and Spencer thinks of all the easier places in the world where they could have done this, and how he wouldn't have picked any of them but here. He keeps looking at Brendon's mouth, salt water wet.

Spencer breathes in, and presses his mouth to Brendon's.

Brendon makes a sound in his throat and then he shifts closer and kisses Spencer back.

It doesn't last long; it can't, not when they're here. They get off their boards and leave them standing in the sand by the edge of the water. Spencer's all for heading back to the car and taking the boards with them, but Brendon just laughs and pulls him back into the shallows.

His skin is wet and it maybe should be cold, too, but it isn't. He's sun-warm and laughing, pressing his mouth to the underside of Spencer's jaw and pushing him back into the water.

"You have _no idea_ how long I've wanted to do this," Brendon admits, breathlessly, in between kisses.

"Probably not, no," Spencer admits, one hand in Brendon's hair. He doesn't even know how long he's wanted this, because everything he's feeling seems so similar to how it was before, only _more_. He can't begin to guess at what's been going on in Brendon's head all this time. He wants to take Brendon home and make out with him where there aren't people watching, where it's just the two of them and no one else around. "Come on," he says, because people _are_ minding their own business, for the most part, but there are a few people casting interested glances in their direction. "Let's go home."

"But, _surfing_ ," Brendon complains, dejectedly. It doesn't stop him following Spencer out of the water, though, or stop him from grabbing his board as they hit the sand.

"Here's the thing," Spencer says, organizing it so that he carrying his board under one shoulder and can still bump elbows with Brendon on the other side. His stomach feels warm and excited, his skin tingling. Brendon bumps elbows back, grinning at him. Spencer's stomach flips over. "Here's the thing," he says again, his voice catching. "We live here. We can come surfing all the fucking time. Whenever we want."

"So," Brendon says, carefully. "You're not thinking of giving it up, or anything?"

Spencer thinks, _fucking Pete_. "No," he says, equally carefully.

"Okay," Brendon says. "Because that would suck."

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "It really fucking would."

"That's good," Brendon says, as they get back to the car. "You want to come back in the morning and surf for real?"

Spencer starts to laugh, and he doesn't stop, even when Brendon's crowding him back against the side of the car and pressing his mouth to Spencer's.

Spencer kisses him back, and doesn't let go.

[End]


End file.
